


and i'd catch the waves for you

by sunlightsz



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightsz/pseuds/sunlightsz
Summary: “Yes, I know, but why’s hehere?”It’s like seeing a light-bulb flicker on above Mingyu’s head. “Oh, oh!” He exclaims, and the fridge beeps with the ‘door left open’ warning no one listens to in summer weather. “I forgot you like him.”Wonwoo has the whole concept of feelings and crushes under his control, until he doesn't.





	and i'd catch the waves for you

**Author's Note:**

> i used 2 be a carat in 2015 when they first debuted but then i just . stopped . i still kept up w their music somtimes but jkHGKJS neways ..... i started listening 2 them again , nd watching old videos nd i guess ... u could say ..... me carat .....
> 
> uhh anyways seokwoo ... can i get a booyah .... a yeehaw ...... love those two ....
> 
> i have exams in a week nd i stayed up 2 hours past my bedtime 2 write this jHJSHJGS so um !!! unbeta'd , all mistakes are mine nd wht not , i hope u enjoy it nd if u did , i would VERY much appreciate it if u left a comment or a kudos <33 
> 
> thank u for reading nd support the seokwoo agenda !!!!!!!!!!

The first night away from home is always the hardest, no matter how many times Wonwoo has gone through it.

He finds himself curled up in bed, eyes roving over the dark ceiling as he listens to the muted sounds of the street outside his apartment. He knows it’s somewhere between one and three am, and Mingyu had yelled something about a very last minute study date a few minutes earlier before the front door closes with a dull thud. Wonwoo turns over, changing the target of his focus from the ceiling to the wall. He counts the scratches, the accidental pen marks from late night revision sessions, the little, tiny imperfections no one ever sees unless they’re close enough. He counts those, and then he counts them again.

His phone tells him it’s almost three am.

Wonwoo sucks in a deep breath, counts to five (“One, two, three, four, five,” he murmurs, and when that doesn’t bring him to sleep, counts them again) before he sits up and tosses his blanket aside, pushing his glasses onto his face and grabbing his hoodie. He yanks it over his head as he slips out of his room and into the hallway. 

Jeonghan’s door is shut, so talking to him is a no-go. 

He ends up gravitating towards the front door, slipping on a pair of sneakers without socks and taking the familiar path down towards the convenience store at the bottom of the hill. The road was still wet from the afternoon’s shower, speckled with puddles and tiny lakes that keep the streetlights in their pools. Wonwoo steps over a particularly large one with ease, walking up to the glass front of the convenience store and pushing the door open, wincing at the bright light and the soft chime.

“Welcome,” says a voice, cheery and bright despite the hour. Wonwoo’s mind pushes a face to the voice, and his heart goes from steady to reckless. He peeks out from underneath his hood and spots Seokmin standing behind the counter with a grin. “Wonwoo! You’re back from visiting home?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says, and he doesn’t miss the way his voice catches against his throat. He can only hope Seokmin doesn’t hear it. “Dropped in earlier this afternoon.”

“And what are you doing now?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says. His hands curl around a bottle of green tea. He takes a bag of chips too, just to add a few more seconds on the clock. “I thought it would be better to go for a walk, or buy something to eat.”

“Maybe you can add keeping me company on that list too.” Seokmin says it with a laugh, boyish and playful in the way he always sounds, but Wonwoo can’t help the way his heart sings with the possibility of it. He shrugs, half-hidden by the aisle, and grabs a cheap lollipop to look busy. Everything ends up on the counter, and Wonwoo has to stop himself from throwing in a magazine he’ll never open.

“I thought you didn’t have work after six?” Wonwoo asks as Seokmin checks his items. 

Seokmin shrugs, turning to Wonwoo with another of those flower-field grins. “Usually I don’t, but the person who had this shift is sick and there was no one else who could cover.” He scans the green tea. “Our boss is old too, so I volunteered.”

“That’s nice of you,” Wonwoo says, and he wishes his head would stop drawing blanks so he could say something else. “What time do you get off?”

“Mmm.” Seokmin scrunches up his face in thought, and Wonwoo momentarily gets distracted by his hand on the bag of chips. “In an hour or so? My boss said she’d come by around four so I could sleep a little before my class.”

Wonwoo nods. The sounds between them turn into the rustle of plastic bags and the beep of the register. Seokmin gently pushes over the bagged items. 

“Your total is this much,” Seokmin says, and Wonwoo smiles.

“You won’t tell me?”

“You can read the display.”

“That’s less than what I expected,” Wonwoo says, and he drops the right amount of bills into Seokmin’s expectant hand. “Um, do you want the lollipop? I don’t like”—he checks the flavor and swallows the child-like disappointment—”strawberry.”

“Oh, is that okay?” Seokmin reaches into the bag and fishes the lollipop out. “I thought you liked strawberry.”

“Not in lollipops,” Wonwoo says, and the way Seokmin smiles at him is enough to make his heart melt. “I’ll see you around, Seokmin.”

Seokmin waves as Wonwoo pushes the doors open, trudging back to his apartment with his heart sitting on the scales of ecstatic and disappointed.

* * *

“I’m home,” Wonwoo says as he steps over the threshold of the front door. He’s sweating, tugging at his collar as he walks to the living room. He swallows his tongue when he sees Seokmin sitting cross-legged in front of Mingyu’s laptop.

“Welcome home,” Seokmin says. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing. The aircon broke in my dorm.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Wonwoo lies, before he spins on his heel and bolts for the kitchen. “What’s Seokmin doing here?” The words come out in a soft, rushed hiss. 

Mingyu looks up from where he’s sticking his head in the fridge. His features twist into puppy-like confusion. “His… aircon is broken?”

“Yes, I know, but why’s he  _ here?” _

It’s like seeing a light-bulb flicker on above Mingyu’s head. “Oh, oh!” He exclaims, and the fridge beeps with the ‘door left open’ warning no one listens to in summer weather. “I forgot you like him.”

“Not so loud,” Wonwoo says. He edges closer to the fridge, casting a glance back to the door which remains blissfully clear of any Seokmin-shaped figures. “Why couldn’t you guys crash at Seungkwan’s place?”

“Because,” Mingyu says, and his voice adopts that reasoning tone Wonwoo still hasn’t quite learned how to beat, “our place is closer to the station. You weren’t home, Jeonghan is still asleep, and I am a very nice person.”

“Why is everyone in here?” Seokmin suddenly asks, and Wonwoo jolts. “Ice cream party?”

“Oh, we  _ are _ out of ice cream,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo sends him a warning look. “Seokmin, can you go buy some with Wonwoo?”

“I’ll get my wallet!” Seokmin says before he’s gone, and Wonwoo rounds on Mingyu.

“I regret telling you anything,” he says. 

Mingyu shrugs. “You didn’t have to tell me anything,” he says, “it’s pretty obvious.”

* * *

“Let’s stop here for a second,” Seokmin says.

They’re on their way back from the convenience store when Seokmin tugs Wonwoo’s wrist, pointing towards an empty playground under the shade of several trees. Wonwoo knows with anyone else he would’ve said no, but the way Seokmin’s eyes look at him earnestly and the way his lips curve up in some star-touched smile has him following along without argument.

They end up by the slide. Seokmin sits at the end of it, scuffing the wood chipped ground. Wonwoo stands next to him, shifting his weight across the ground. The sun is warm against his skin, and a part of him wonders just how much of that warmth is from Seokmin and his nonchalant affections. He chances a look to the younger, memorizes the way the sun settles against his skin and the way the shadows from the leaves fall on his face.

“You’ve been looking at me a lot,” Seokmin says, and Wonwoo almost misses it when the wind carries it away.

“I—what?”

“You’ve been looking at me a lot,” Seokmin repeats. This time, he tilts his head up to look Wonwoo in the eyes. There’s nothing but honesty behind rings of soft brown, and Wonwoo (out of habit, fear, something else) looks down to his shoes. “And I think you like me.”

“You’re a good friend, yeah,” Wonwoo says. He puts his words up like a shield, a shitty way of deflecting the truth and it  _ works _ until slender fingers wrap around his wrist and he’s being tugged close to Seokmin. His free hand shoots out, bracing itself against the warm slide.

Everything is warm, warm, warm.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Seokmin says, and Wonwoo is forced to confront the terrifying undeniable; the abyss of the great, deep trench of feelings. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and I have something to say.”

“So say it,” Wonwoo says.

“Not until you say it first.”

“What if we’re talking about different subjects here?”

That makes Seokmin laugh, and Wonwoo has never been so close to him before. There’s only inches between them, far enough that Wonwoo feels want but close enough that he’s debating the effects of pulling away and running to Busan. “I know we’re not,” Seokmin assures him. “But if you want, I can go first?”

He’s extending a helping hand. Of course he would, Wonwoo thinks, in the moment of truth.

“No, I’ll go,” Wonwoo says. He’s still hovering over Seokmin, whose back is pressed against the slide. “I…” Wonwoo sucks in a huge breath. He counts to five, (“One, two, three, four, five,” he whispers to himself, and when the words still don’t come to him, counts again) before shaking his head. The sun is warm against his skin, hot where the fabric of his black shirt soaks it up, and Seokmin has always rivaled whatever spring and summer were composed of. “I like you, more than friends.”

There’s a beat, a restless, long beat where the birds sing and the cicadas hum and the playground becomes this impossibly tiny space that boxes in the two of them and then—

“I like you too, Wonwoo.”

The universe lets go of its held breath. Wonwoo blinks owlishly, quietly, surprise in his every bone because there was never, ever a scenario he envisioned where Seokmin could like him the way he hoped. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Seokmin asks, and Wonwoo laughs, sinking to his knees. The wood chippings dig into his jeans but he can barely feel it, overwhelmed and giddy and every euphoric emotion that existed under the moon and the sun was swirling in his heart right now. 

“No, nope, I’m just happy,” he responds, and Seokmin’s hands cradle his jaw, gentle. “You mean it?”

“Like I mean everything,” Seokmin says, and maybe it’s because Wonwoo really can’t comprehend anything beyond Seokmin but the words make him smile. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Wonwoo whispers. He doesn’t mean for it to sound as longing as it does, but it makes Seokmin smile, and then his lips are against Wonwoo’s, sweet and tender and nothing like how he had ever imagined it. They pull apart a moment later, and Seokmin’s cheeks are colored a rosy pink. Wonwoo wants to keep that color forever.

Seokmin smiles, and Wonwoo leans forward to kiss him again.

* * *

“We’re back,” Seokmin calls out into the apartment. Mingyu slides into the hallway, a pout on his lips.

“You guys were gone for so long,” he whines. “Do you have ice cream?”

“It’s melted,” Wonwoo says while lifting up the plastic bag. “You’re welcome to go buy some if you really want it, though.”

“What were you guys  _ doing?”  _

“Working out some stuff,” Seokmin says as he reaches out for Wonwoo’s hands, intertwining their fingers. Wonwoo ducks his head, a soft smile spreading across his features as he toes off his shoes. 

“Our ice cream melted for this?” Mingyu groans as he slumps back towards the living room. “Congratulations but I really wanted ice cream.”

Seokmin laughs, loud and gold-touched. He lets go of Wonwoo’s hand, presses a kiss to his lips once, twice before running into the living room with apologies on his tongue. Wonwoo leans against the doorframe before following Seokmin into the living room, pulling his wallet out with enough money for three ice creams as his own apology.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <33 feel free 2 drop kudos / comments or even hmu on the following :D (also PLEASE hmu if ur a carat i need more carat mutualsjhKJSHGJKS)
> 
> twitter: [@dearshowho](http://twitter.com/dearshowho) | curiouscat: [@matchalattes](https://curiouscat.me/matchalattes)


End file.
